


Lighter Fluid

by opensoulsurgery



Series: Tales from Desolation Sound [2]
Category: Original Work, Original characters - Fandom, original universe - Fandom
Genre: Body Horror, Cosmic Symbiosis, Dubious Science, Gen, Hallucinations, Horror, Human Experimentation, Magic and Science, Mind Manipulation, Occult Science, Original Characters - Freeform, Original Universe, Original work - Freeform, Possession, Psychological Horror, Symbiotic Relationship, cosmic horror, or are they?, symbiosis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-02
Updated: 2019-08-02
Packaged: 2020-07-29 14:28:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20083732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/opensoulsurgery/pseuds/opensoulsurgery
Summary: After undergoing a horrific procedure in order to allow a mysterious entity share his body, Charlie must go through a solid week of observation to ensure the bond between host and entity is stable.On day four he smelt lighter fluid for the first time.





	Lighter Fluid

**Author's Note:**

> This is a small part of a greater story I'm thinking of turning into a companion piece for my other Desolation Sound-set story, so it's been tucked into a series tag called 'Tales from Desolation Sound.' From time to time I'll write short stories set in the universe and upload them under the series name if anybody wants to check it out!

**☣**

**JULY 2018  
DAY FOUR, 8:37AM**  
**ATHENE NUCLEAR GENERATING PLANT**  
**LEVEL THREE, RESEARCH LABS **  


He wakes up in a cold sweat. His shirt is drenched right through to the bedsheets underneath him. Charlie struggles to push himself into an upright position, swiping the back of his hand across his sweat-drenched forehead. He’s never felt _ this _awful in his life. A chill races up his spine and he involuntary shivers as his eyes adjust to the darkness of the examination room he’s been quarantined in. 

This morning marks the fourth day he’s been stuck in this room behind a thick piece of tempered glass and a reinforced steel door. The bed he’s in is tucked in the far corner of the room, and there are two sets of fluorescent lights hanging down from the ceiling, giving the room the garish look of a poorly lit hospital room. Charlie exhales, his shoulders drawing forward as he tugs up the thin sheets around his shoulders for warmth. 

He figured that his dad would have at least given him better accommodations than this for being willing enough to go through with his certifiably insane ideas, but no. Charlie may as well as be just another employee to his dad. Not for the first time, he wonders what it is that’s buried so deep down in his numerous insecurities that compels him to continue to seek his father’s approval like this. 

He willingly subjected himself to this and look where that’s got him: trapped in this room like a zoo animal, ragged with an exhaustion that’s buried itself deep into his bones, a continuous aching throb from where his hand had been broken yesterday.

And it had been. It inexplicably snapped into pieces in front of his eyes, the bones cracking loudly enough that even the doctor scrambling around him trying to help flinched. Charlie threw up, then passed out. When he woke up, all the bones in his hand were right there they should’ve been and nobody could explain the sickening event. 

They told him that he’d need to be under observation for a week after the procedure, but they never warned him about the side-effects. If they could even be called that. Whatever was happening to him wasn’t right; he could read it in the eyes of every researcher who studies him. They preach at him sometimes, almost pleading for him to welcome the entity. He can’t tell if they want him to because they’re genuinely concerned for his well-being or if they just want their project to be successful. 

He wonders how Adam is doing. Something tells him that Adam is probably taking this just fine. 

So, he tries to embrace the entity, but whenever he tries all he can feel is a viscous shapeless being trying to ooze its way towards dominance inside of him. It makes his joints ache, it makes pressure build to a near unbearable point somewhere behind his eyes. It makes him nauseous. It makes him delirious. 

I can’t, he’d tell the researchers.

You can, they’d say. 

Let me out of here, he’d beg. 

They always tell him no. They always tell him that they can make this work. 

They always tell him that they can fix the botched possession. 

And that’s what it is, isn’t it? A botched possession? You can paint it up with a scientific backing and call it Cosmic Symbiosis, but that doesn’t change the core of what it is: a possession. 

Charlie hauls himself up, dragging his feet over to the window and peers through. Nobody is on the other side, but that doesn’t mean nobody is watching. The cameras in his room watch obediently all hours of the day. 

It’s the cameras that catch the fire from beginning to end. 

Charlie wipes the back of his hand across his forehead again, still sweating despite the chill in his bones. His head thuds against the glass and his eyes flutter shut for a moment. That’s when he smells it. 

Lighter fluid. 

Charlie raises his head and sniffs at the air. It’s faint, but it’s distinctly there. He shuffles around the room trying to follow the scent to its source. It grows stronger and more pungent with time until it fills his nostrils, blocking out any other scent. He coughs and coughs, waving a hand in front of his face, and the bedsheet falls from his shoulders with the movement. It pools around his feet, damp from being soaked with his sweat. 

Coughing, he presses a button on the intercom and a voice fills the room. “Yes?”  
  
“Hey”–he coughs–”I think there’s”–more coughing–”something wrong. It smells like–lighter fluid and it’s really–– _ really _hot.” Well, he thinks it’s hot because sweat continues to soak through his shirt. He must’ve woken up with another fever. 

Then the scent of smoke hits him. 

It’s just barely noticeable through the thick butane scent, but Charlie’s attention is drawn downward towards his feet. 

There is definitely smoke, but more concerning than that are the flames licking at the bottom of his legs. “What the fu–” The flames begin to rapidly climb up his legs as if it was waiting for him to notice. Charlie lets out a scream and slams a hand down on the intercom’s button again. 

“Fire!” he is all he manages to choke out before the smoke begins to tighten his throat for good.

If there’s a response from the other end he doesn’t hear it. 

The flames quickly spread up his torso and he tries to scream again, but he inhales the unnaturally thick smoke. It gets caught in his throat and triggers another racking coughing fit that doubles him over. He drops onto one knee and then the other. The fire is at his chest now, licking at his jawline, he cheeks, skimming just below his eyes. He collapses onto all fours, staring down at the charred remains of his hands in shock as the flesh burns before his eyes. It bubbles and pops. The scent of the lighter fluid is overpowered by the scent of his own burning flesh. 

The cameras impassively record his thrashing, the smoke curling up to the ceiling, people running in with fire extinguishers. 

The cameras impassively record as the smoke begins to clear and reveals Charlie sprawled on the floor and encircled by the small group of researchers. One of them bends to a knee, reaching out to Charlie’s cheek in eerie reverence. There’s not even so much as a blister on his skin.

He’s fine.  
  
Charlie blearily opens his eyes and his first thought is, _ It doesn’t smell like lighter fluid anymore _.

**Author's Note:**

> Aaaaaand, thank you again for reading. I hope you enjoyed it. Comments are always really appreciated. :)


End file.
